


The End is the Beginning

by AClosedFicIsNeverRead



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Good Alpha Derek Hale, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sheriff Stilinski Finds Out, Werewolf Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:40:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28367058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AClosedFicIsNeverRead/pseuds/AClosedFicIsNeverRead
Summary: When Chris returned to the living room, rifle in hand, Stiles – God help him – looked so relieved.“Thank you,” Stiles sighed. He sat up and closed his eyes, trying to hold himself somewhat still as he waited to die.Chris clenched his jaw.Raised his rifle.Aimed with tearful eyes.And pulled the trigger.- OR -The one where Stiles is bitten and left for dead by a rogue Alpha without anyone knowing, becomes increasingly unstable, and asks Chris Argent to put him down.It doesn't go the way he expected it would...
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 61
Kudos: 864





	The End is the Beginning

Chris Argent pulled open his front door and frowned. “Stiles,” he greeted coolly. “Allison’s not home.”

Stiles shook his head, eyes downcast as he muttered through clenched teeth, “Not here f-for Allison.”

Chris arched a brow and narrowed his steely blue eyes. His gut told him something was very wrong. He noted that the typically spasmodic boy was even twitchier than usual – his entire body was in a state of perpetual motion. With practiced ease, Chris brought his hand to his hip behind the door, resting his fingers within reach of the gun concealed at his back. He allowed his eyes to flick over Stiles’ shoulder quickly, scanning for anything or anyone waiting nearby, using Stiles as a way to gain entry into his home.

“In that case, what brings you?” Chris asked, keeping his voice even and expression impassive.

Stiles drew a shuddering breath and reluctantly met the hunter’s gaze. “Need your help.”

Chris studied the teenager for another moment before taking a step back and opening his door wider. He watched the tense lines of Stiles’ shoulders as the boy shuffled into the home. Closing and locking the door, Chris kept his hand near his weapon. “Go ahead and take a seat on the couch. Can I get you anything to drink?”

Stiles shook his head, dropping down onto the couch and slouching heavily in exhaustion, but his body never stilled.

Chris moved to stand behind the recliner across from Stiles, hunters’ instincts urging him to keep at least one obstacle between him and the boy. “What did you need help with?”

Stiles swallowed with audible difficulty, exhaling shakily before looking at the hunter and stating determinedly, “Need you to… k-kill me… make it l-look… like an accident.” 

Just as Chris opened his mouth to balk at the request, Stiles flashed his golden eyes and Chris stilled.

“ _Please_ ,” Stiles choked out, tears streaming down his face. “I c-can’t… I can’t control it.” He closed his eyes tightly, shaking his head as his hands flexed and flailed at his sides. Tremors continued to rack his body, his limbs jolting with continuous involuntary movements. “My medicine… it… it doesn’t w-work. I can’t… can’t stop… My brain is j-just… so LOUD. Nonstop. Just n-nonstop. It’s _nonstop_ ,” he panted desperately.

Chris’ features softened in dismayed understanding. “Your ADHD medicine?”

Stiles nodded jerkily and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. “I just… I hear and smell and s-see and feel everything. And it’s too much. It’s all too much. Too m-much coming in. My mind is in this… this constant state of just… sensory o-overload. It won’t stop. It never stops. I can’t think. I c-can’t focus. I can’t sleep. I can’t e-eat. Please. _Please_ , help me,” he begged desperately.

“Did Derek – ?” Chris began, unable to keep the fury from his tone.

Stiles shook his head frantically and all-but roared, “ _NO!_ ” Flinching at his own volume, he tried again, quieter this time. “No. N-not… Not Derek,” he insisted shakily, rocking in place in an effort to try and focus his energy. He laughed manically as he said, “God. Der w-would _never_ … H-he knows I didn’t want… He wouldn’t…”

Chris frowned for a few seconds before realization hit. “The rogue Alpha? The one Derek killed last week?” When Stiles nodded, Chris’ eyes closed. He gripped the recliner in front of him, leaning heavily against it as his stomach roiled. “The blood I found at the warehouse. That was all from you?”

Stiles worked his jaw from side to side before returning to clenching his teeth. “Lucky for me… you guys don’t… c-compare notes, huh?” He joked between labored breaths and glanced up, laughing grimly. “The pack… th-they… they would’ve sniffed me r-right out… would’ve known… But you… y-you all don’t talk… Nobody talks… Worked out for me… N-no one knows.”

“Jesus _Christ_ , Stiles,” Chris croaked, eyes now wet with unshed, horrified tears for what the kid had been through. Chris had been able to read that scene well enough to understand the severity of the injuries the boy sustained. “You weren’t just bitten. You were… _butchered_.” He had to force the word from his lips. “That bastard left you for dead to weaken the pack.”

“He d-did…” Stiles agreed with his face scrunching up and eyes closing. He covered his nose and mouth, overwhelmed by the scent of Chris’ emotions. His words were muffled as he chuckled roughly, “All the m-more reason… not to t-tell anyone…”

“How in God’s name did you even – ?” Chris started to ask in disbelief.

“Woke up… healed e-enough to… walk and h-hide…” Stiles managed to huff. With a whimper, he pulled up his shirt for a second, revealing that his entire torso was covered in wet, bloody gauze and bandages. “Still n-not healed… Been a-avoiding… e-everyone since… even Dad…”

“Why come here?” Chris asked in confusion. “Why not go to Derek?”

Stiles let out a clip of wet, sobbing laughter. He wiped at his eyes and gripped his hair with both hands. Clearly agitated by the suggestion, he was rocking in place again, much faster than before, and his knees began bouncing up and down furiously. Shaking his head, he hummed in disagreement for a moment before he was able to speak. He drew a deep breath before words were flooding out of him rapidly.

“ _Can’t_. C-can’t ask him to do it. Nope. N-no. Not fair.” He grimaced and whipped his head from side to side in refusal as he rambled, “Can’t put it on h-his conscience, man. T-too much on th-there already. And it’s n-not his fault. None of it. Not his f-fault I got attacked. Not his fault I’m a d-defective werewolf.” He laughed bitterly. Taking a gasping breath, he nodded to himself before saying resolutely, “But _you_ – you c-can do it. You’ll make it l-look like an accident. Like it w-was quick. Okay? F-for my Dad. So he can make peace with it. And so Derek won’t b-blame himself. Okay? Please? They d-don’t ever need to know.”

Chris bit his lips, taking in the boy’s clearly unstable condition. How long could he live like this? But shit, Stiles was barely 17. He was still a _kid_. An innocent kid, at that. One Chris had a grudging respect for.

With tears flowing freely down his face, Stiles looked up at him. Seeing the hunter’s hesitation, Stiles held out a tremulous hand in supplication and insisted desperately, “It’s o-okay. _Hey_ , it’s okay. Y-you can do this. You can d-do it. I’m asking. You’re h-helping. You don’t h-have to feel bad. Don’t f-feel bad. Okay? It’s w-what hunters do, right? Put down b-bad wolves? I’m not good – see? No g-good like this. You’ll d-do it, right? Please? M-make it stop?” He sobbed as he admitted brokenly, “I haven’t s-slept in 7 d-days, man. Please. K-kill me. Mr. Argent. _P-please?_ ”

Chris stood up straight, staring at Stiles for a long moment and trying to reign in his emotions. Finally, he turned and went to the garage. When he returned to the living room, rifle in hand, Stiles – God help him – looked so _relieved_.

“Th-thank you,” Stiles sighed. “God, thank you. Accident. R-remember. Please? Thank you.”

Stiles sat up and closed his eyes, trying to hold himself somewhat still as he waited to die.

Chris clenched his jaw.

Raised his rifle.

Aimed with tearful eyes.

And pulled the trigger.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

Derek pulled up outside of Deaton’s animal clinic and glared at the black SUV already parked behind the building. Its presence came as no surprise, as its owner was the one who had summoned him. Receiving a text from Chris Argent about a ‘problem’ he needed to show him was at the top of the list of ways he did not want to start his day.

He climbed out of his Camaro and shut the door, nostrils flaring as he struggled to identify the scents in the area. There was blood… Something about it set his teeth on edge and caused his wolf to stir in his veins. He tried to identify it, but the scent was far too obstructed by the stench of medical grade cleaner and animals. 

When he entered the building, he found Chris and Deaton both standing inside looking equally grim.

“What?” Derek snarled, knowing he was not going to like whatever he was about to hear.

The sound of brakes behind him caused his brow to crease. He knew that vehicle. He turned in surprise, listening to the eventual approaching footsteps and watching as Sheriff Stilinski entered.

The Sheriff stopped just inside the door, eyeing the unlikely group of men gathered inside warily. 

“Gentlemen,” he greeted before taking a few steps forward, moving to stand beside Derek and giving him a suspicious glance. 

“Now that you’re both here, we can begin,” Deaton said.

“What exactly are we beginning?” the Sheriff asked.

Chris spoke up, cutting right to the chase. “Werewolves are real. Derek? Would you do the honors of giving the Sheriff a demonstration?”

Derek’s jaw dropped an instant before his expression turned downright homicidal.

The Sheriff’s response was skeptical to say the least. “Mr. Argent… isn’t it a bit early to be drinking?”

Chris laughed darkly and assured, “In a few minutes, you’ll rethink that.”

With a weary sigh, the Sheriff turned his full attention to Derek and took out his notepad and pen. “Mr. Hale, if you would like to file a complaint against Mr. Argent for harassment, I would be more than happy to personally handle the report for you. _In fact_ , after everything that’s gone on between your families, and the way the Argents consistently and incorrectly believe themselves to be above the law in my town, it would bring me great pleasure to assist you.”

Derek arched a brow, giving the Sheriff an impressed, pleased smile. He tried not to look too smug when he glanced over at Chris. “Thank you, Sheriff Stilinski. Depending on how this conversation goes, I may very well take you up on that offer.”

“He needs to know, Derek,” Chris declared firmly, giving the Alpha a purposeful look. “It’s urgent. You _know_ I wouldn’t do this if there was any other way.”

Derek’s jaw flexed, his brief amusement fading. “This isn’t – ”

“It _is_ necessary, Derek.” Chris said.

“He… There’s no need to…” Derek tried, not wanting to say that Stiles had pretty much expressly forbidden anyone telling his father.

“I know why you don’t want to. I know _who_ doesn’t want you to,” Chris stressed and took a step forward. “Trust me. He needs to know. _Right now_. We have a major problem and ALL of us need to work together on this one.”

The Sheriff looked back and forth between the two men, reading their posture and expressions carefully. No matter how ridiculous the subject matter seemed to him, it was obvious that Hale and Argent were damned serious about it.

“I figured you weren’t going to believe me,” Chris said and reached behind him. “Here. This should help clear things up.” He picked up a bag containing a piece of bloody fabric. He opened the bag before holding it out to Derek, but the unmasked scent had filled the room the instant the seal was broken.

Derek exhaled sharply in disbelief, eyes going wide as he quickly reached out to take the fabric. He breathed in deeply, getting more information from the scent than he knew what to do with. _Stiles… was_ …. His eyes went to Chris’, silently demanding an explanation.

“Alive for now,” Chris assured. “The danger is gone, now we need to deal with the aftermath. If you can help the Sheriff get up to speed, we can get on with that.”

“Whose blood is that?” Sheriff Stilinski demanded, pointing at the fabric in Derek’s hand.

Derek swallowed down his panic and set the fabric down. He took a steadying breath before turning and meeting the man’s gaze. “Sheriff, I need you to stay calm when I show you this. I am not a threat to you. Do you understand?”

The Sheriff’s posture went rigid and he narrowed his eyes on Derek warily before nodding.

Derek started slowly, first allowing his eyes to glow Alpha red. He waited, watching the other man’s eyes widen in surprise. After a moment, Derek opened his mouth and allowed his fangs to slowly descend while holding up a hand to show his claws extending.

The Sheriff took a step back. His hand was on his gun holster, but he did not draw his weapon. “ _Oh_ ,” he breathed. After studying Derek’s appearance for a tense moment, he said deadpan, “Yeah… _yeah_ I get the need for day drinking now.”

Deaton spoke up, drawing everyone’s attention. “We can fill you in on all the facts and history pertaining to werewolves as we go, Sheriff, but for right now, we need to address the most pressing matter: Stiles.”

“ _Stiles?_ What – ?” The Sheriff began as he looked from Deaton to the bloodied fabric and back. “Where is my son? What happened?” he asked in growing alarm.

“Stiles came to my house this morning and asked me to put him down,” Chris said carefully.

Derek leaned heavily against the counter. “When…? Why would he…? Who gave him the bite?”

“The bite? What? Are you saying my son is a… _werewolf_ , too?” the Sheriff managed to ask in disbelief before shouting, “Where. Is. _My. SON?_ ”

“Here,” Deaton said, stepping back and opening a door.

The men stepped forward, Derek’s eyes going to the warding around the doorframe and noting that the scents and sounds from the room had been masked.

Laying on a cot, looking deathly pale and impossibly still, was Stiles.

“Oh my boy,” the Sheriff gasped as he rushed inside and took his pulse. “Jesus Christ, he needs a hospital! What is he doing here?”

“He can’t go to a hospital,” Derek said as he stepped up to the other side of the cot. “They can’t help him.”

“And what? _You_ can? A damned _vet_ can?” he demanded. His eyes wandered over the way his son’s shirtless torso was almost entirely obstructed from view by fresh, but already bloodied, bandages. “Oh God, what happened to him?”

“The rogue Alpha you took out…” Chris informed Derek gravely, watching as the Alpha took the boy’s hand in his own.

“But… that would mean…” Derek began, vision blurred with unshed tears as he looked over Stiles’ injuries. “Are you telling me he’s been like this since _last_ _week_?” he shouted in horrified disbelief.

“What? No! He can’t have been. I’ve…” the Sheriff insisted, only to trail off as he racked his brain.

“When’s the last time anyone talked to or saw Stiles in person?” Chris challenged. “Not over the phone or through a door?”

Derek thought back on the numerous, completely plausible excuses he received for Stiles’ absence – from Stiles directly via text and secondhand through the pack. Stiles had covered all of his bases to make sure none of them suspected a thing.

“He was hiding it from all of us,” Derek breathed. He placed one hand on Stiles’ shoulder and tightened his grip on Stiles’ hand, bringing it up close to his chest, pressing it against his heart. He inhaled sharply and closed his eyes, wincing as he pulled as much pain from the new Beta as he could.

“What the hell is that? What are you doing?” the Sheriff asked apprehensively as he watched the black lines traveling up Derek’s arms.

“He is taking your son’s pain, Sheriff,” Deaton answered softly. “It will help Stiles heal. In fact, Derek’s presence alone will speed his recovery considerably.”

The Sheriff watched in astonishment, his eyes passing back and forth between his son – who seemed to relax further in his unconscious state – and Derek – who was wincing and gritting his teeth, sweat forming on his forehead as he bowed his head.

“He feels it,” the Sheriff said in realization. “The pain… it doesn’t just go away. Derek is feeling it instead?”

“That is correct,” Deaton replied.

The Sheriff nodded and swallowed past a lump in his throat, not knowing how he would even begin to thank Derek for it. 

After a moment, the black lines on his arms tapered off and Derek took a deep breath. “That’s all I can get out of him for now. You have him too far under for me to get any more. Why is he so heavily sedated?” he asked worriedly.

“That brings us back to his arrival at my doorstep this morning,” Chris sighed. “You were right, Derek. He was hiding what happened. He wasn’t just bitten. He was left for dead.” He motioned to the bandages and said, “He’s been healing all week and he’s still this severe, you can imagine what was done to him. He never would have made it out of that warehouse if he hadn’t turned.”

“Why the hell would Stiles hide the fact that someone tried… tried to _kill_ him?” the Sheriff asked, fighting back tears. “Why would he walk around like… like _this_ and _worse_ and not ask for help?”

“Stiles knew why he was targeted,” Chris said, looking over at Derek. “The Alpha attacked Stiles and – as far as I can tell – believed he killed him. The goal was to hurt the pack. To hurt _you_ and most likely confront you while you were grieving. Stiles knew this, and he decided that he didn’t want to be used against any of you. So, he hid.”

Derek winced and looked down at Stiles in an effort to hide the pained expression on his face. He held Stiles hand tighter, keeping it pressed against his heart, keeping Stiles connected to him.

“The ‘pack’?” the Sheriff repeated. “Who else is – ?” His face fell as he thought back on all the weirdness of the past year. “Scott. And Lydia? Jackson? Your weird Uncle? Who else?”

“Erica, Boyd, Isaac…” Derek said quietly.

“ _Lahey?_ The kid whose Dad was such a piece of – ?” the Sheriff asked but caught himself. His features softened as he slowly started piecing it together, seeing the pattern. “And wait… Erica? The Reyes girl with the epilepsy so bad?”

“Not anymore,” Deaton commented with a light smile.

“So, this is what’s been going on with Stiles?” the Sheriff asked. “Werewolves? This is why he’s been lying to me and sneaking around?”

Derek looked up and said, “Scott and I have both offered to tell you when things between you and Stiles were strained. Like when he took that van to keep Jackson from hurting anyone.”

The Sheriff’s jaw dropped open. “ _That’s_ why he stole the transport van?”

Derek nodded solemnly.

Noah winced. “He was trying to save people and I… God, the things I said to him…”

Exhaling slowly and pressing his lips together, Derek looked down at the unconscious teen as he stated, “Stiles was afraid to tell you. He said you already are at risk every day because of your job. He was afraid if you got caught up in all this, he’d lose you, too. He said he couldn’t take the chance.”

The Sheriff bit his bottom lip, trying in vain to keep his tears at bay. “But… he wasn’t a werewolf before? He was just a kid… a human kid… out there putting himself in danger to help his friends? He wasn’t strong like them?”

“ _He’s stronger than all of us_ ,” Derek declared quietly, looking down at the ground to collect himself.

The Sheriff looked over at him, hearing the way Derek’s voice had quavered, the raw emotion behind those words.

Clearing his throat, Derek said, “But yes, he’s been human up until now. He knew that put him in the most danger, most at risk of being harmed. He always had the option… but he didn’t want to be turned.” Derek chewed his cheek as his eyes welled up, hating that the choice had now been taken from Stiles.

Seeing the confusion on the Sheriff’s face, Deaton explained, “He was offered but refused. The bite is not without risks. It’s possible for the body to reject it. People don’t survive when that happens.”

Derek gritted his teeth before informing the Sheriff, “He knew it would probably make him stronger, but he wasn’t willing to risk you losing him, either.”

“ _Jesus, Stiles_ …” the Sheriff whispered tearfully. He pulled up a stool, sitting next to Stiles and pressing his forehead against his son’s as he ran a hand through his hair.

Derek’s features hardened as he turned his attention back to Chris. “Why would he ask you to kill him? Why not come to me now that the other Alpha is dead?” he asked, his voice taking on a dangerous edge. He had shifted his body slightly, the change in posture making it clear that he was placing himself between Chris and Stiles. His wolf was snarling beneath the surface, not wanting the hunter anywhere near his wounded Beta. Because – regardless of who gave him the bite – Stiles was _his_. That would never be up for debate.

The Sheriff looked up in response to the angry questions and took in the change in Derek’s posture, as well as the unspoken threat in his tone. He kept his mouth shut, reading between the lines that Derek must have killed the man – werewolf – Alpha – _whatever_ – that had hurt Stiles. He could not say he disapproved. He was starting to understand why Stiles had shifted his opinion of Derek so drastically. He was finding himself in a similar boat. 

Chris kept his posture and tone as nonthreatening as possible as he replied. “I think his plan was to stay away just until he was healed. He probably meant to come to you once things had settled. And given what I know of him, I’m sure he could have managed to keep himself under control, were he not faced with an unexpected complication.” Chris met Derek’s eyes as he said, “His ADHD.”

Derek frowned, then his eyes widened, and he looked down at the teen in realization. “Oh… God.”

“‘ _Oh God’_ , what?” the Sheriff demanded.

“The bite can cure countless medical problems,” Deaton replied. “Anything from heart disease to cancer. Asthma in Scott’s case. Epilepsy in Erica’s. It cannot, however, change the way a person’s brain naturally functions. Stiles’ ADHD is not something that can be corrected. It is a part of him. Part of how his brain works. How it processes and receives information. How his energy level impacts his ability to control his movements. When you add on top of that the extra senses of a newly turned werewolf…” Deaton shook his head sadly. “The constant onslaught of unfamiliar sensory input is overwhelming for anyone who receives the bite. It is part of what makes it so difficult for new wolves to learn to control their change. For Stiles, it is a hundred times worse.”

The Sheriff looked to Chris, steeling himself before asking, “How was he?”

“Barely hanging on by a thread,” Chris assured gravely. “I honestly have no idea how he even managed to get to my house in the state he was in. The way his body was moving… he looked like someone suffering from late-stage Parkinson’s. He hadn’t slept since he was attacked last week. Said he couldn’t eat, either. On top of that, he said his medication no longer works. I found an empty prescription bottle in his jacket. He filled it yesterday. He must have taken the entire month’s supply in a single day, and it didn’t help him at all. I get the feeling that’s what made him seek me out.”

The Sheriff held his son’s hand and kept running a hand through his hair. His voice broke as he asked, “He really asked you to kill him?”

“He did,” Chris recalled. “And he was very specific about it, too. He wanted it to look like an accident so it would be easier for you, Sheriff. And he was adamant that this wasn’t your fault, Derek. He didn’t want you to ever know because he didn’t want you to blame yourself. He said he came to me because he didn’t want to be on your conscience.”

Derek shook his head, keeping his breathing steady despite the anguish those words inflicted.

“He’s not going to be happy when he wakes up,” Chris warned. “When I brought out the rifle he actually thanked me. Repeatedly. I don’t think he ever realized I wasn’t actually going to kill him.”

At that, Derek closed his eyes and bit his lips, his jaw trembling as he nearly lost his hold on his emotions.

Noah let slip a single sob, covering his face with his hand and pressing his forehead to his son’s again.

After giving them a moment to compose themselves, Deaton addressed the Sheriff and Derek – father and Alpha – in equal measure when he spoke. Both men were responsible for Stiles now. “Mr. Argent used double the standard dose of tranquilizers to put him under before bringing him here. I have him anesthetized to the best of my abilities.”

Derek glanced up at the vet and frowned. “I need him conscious to accept me as his Alpha.”

“Aren’t you already?” the Sheriff asked curiously.

“I was, before he was bitten,” Derek said with a wince. “It’s different for a human than a wolf. The connection before was just surface level. It will be much stronger now. But… I wasn’t the one to turn him. Being bitten by another Alpha, it… _took him_ from my pack,” he ground out bitterly as his wolf howled mournfully inside his chest. “Stiles needs to acknowledge our bond again, then I can do more to help him.”

“Help how? Protect him? Help him heal faster?” the Sheriff guessed.

“Yes,” Derek agreed. “Also, guide him while he learns control – after, of course we deal with his ADHD.”

“I understand, Derek,” Deaton assured. “And I am eager for us to reach the point where he can benefit from that bond. First, however, his body needs to recover from the lack of food and sleep. I will monitor his condition and, once his body has healed and rested to the point where I believe he can handle regaining consciousness, I will begin gradually scaling back the anesthesia. He will still need to be sedated even when he wakes, at least until I can find a way to help him manage his condition. I will have to try to come up with something to serve as a replacement for his medication – be it a potent herbal remedy or a spell of some sort. Perhaps even a steady, low dose of wolfsbane to diminish his senses…”

“I’ll have Peter bring you any books we have that might help,” Derek offered.

Deaton nodded. “Very good. I believe there are several in the Hale vault that may prove useful. We should all be prepared for the fact that this will take trial and error. It will take time and patience. Stiles will need all the support and understanding he can get.”

“I’ll stay with him while we figure it out,” Derek stated resolutely as he gazed down at Stiles. “He was only on his own because I didn’t know what was going on. I’m not letting him go through anything else alone.”

The Sheriff looked up at Derek in surprise, eyes narrowing as he took in Derek’s appearance. His posture was rigid, his expression impassive. But he could see the storm of emotions in the werewolf’s eyes. He could not help but wonder whether Derek’s obvious loyalty to his son was caused by something more than a supernatural connection.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

The Sheriff was at his son’s side most of the time, but – given the nature of his position in the community – he still had to make appearances.

True to his word, Derek stayed rooted in place at Stiles’ side at all times. Knowing it would help Stiles’ recovery, he also called in the pack.

Scott had been an absolute wreck when he first arrived. He actually climbed up onto the cot beside his best friend, curling alongside him and crying. Mrs. McCall had been more reserved in her heartache, but her scent attested to its intensity. She asked questions in a quavering, professional voice even as her haunted eyes surveyed Stiles’ frail condition.

Whenever Deaton did not need to access Stiles, the room was filled to the brim with wolves touching and scenting him, taking his pain, and speaking reassurances to him. 

Derek could feel his bond to Stiles growing – tentative at first, as the Beta was not yet conscious to fully accept it. Fortunately, the two of them had bonded enough over time to provide a good foundation. Derek nurtured that link, used it to make Stiles aware at least on a subconscious level that he was not alone – that they were with him, protecting him and caring for him.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

“… _nnn_ …”

Derek blinked and sat up to focus on the teen in front of him. It had been a week, and this was the first sound he had heard from Stiles. His bleary eyes went to the clock. It was 2:30 AM on a Tuesday. The rest of the pack were at home for the night. The Sheriff was at the station checking in. Even Deaton had gone home to catch some sleep.

“… _n-noooo_ …” Stiles whimpered, already miserable as he regained a fraction of consciousness. “… _no, no, p-please…. no…”_

“Hey… Stiles, can you hear me?” Derek asked, leaning over him, and stroking his hair.

“… _why?_...” Stiles wept brokenly. His face crumpled and tears began streaming down his temples. “… _why, why, why…_ _s-supposed to… k-kill… m-me… don’t wanna… c-can’t do_ …”

“Shh… It’s okay. I’m right here. I’ve got you,” Derek whispered. “We’re gonna figure this out, okay?”

Stiles body trembled as loud, choking sobs escaped him. His panic soared as his heart began racing.

Derek grabbed the syringe Deaton had left just in case of this and plunged its contents into the IV bag attached to Stiles.

“Okay… _shh_ … you’re okay…” Derek soothed softly and watched as the teen’s expression swiftly relaxed in response to the potent medication.

“Oh… that… that is really nice,” Stiles slurred, sounding disoriented but immensely relieved.

“Stiles?” Derek called, leaning closer over him, and watching the teen’s face carefully.

“Hmm?” he mumbled. His eyes rolled around beneath their lids, making it clear that he was trying in vain to open his eyes.

“Do you accept me as your Alpha?” Derek asked, hoping to get this established so he could better help.

Stiles actually snorted. “ _Duh_ , Sourwolf…” he chuckled hoarsely. “…‘f course…”

Derek took a deep breath, feeling their bond solidify. He was unsurprised to find their connection to be the brightest strand in the interwoven web of their pack. It thrummed with energy and strength. Stiles never did anything halfway. When he gave loyalty, it was unwavering. Derek immediately leaned into their bond, sending out a sense of pack and protection to the new wolf.

“…feel you…” Stiles commented in awe and reached up, giving an uncoordinated pat to Derek’s shoulder, leaving his hand there to rest. “Sorry… ‘m so broken…” he managed. “Y’keep… collecting misfits…”

Derek smiled warmly despite himself, glad no one was there to witness it. He had been waiting for this. For Stiles to wake up enough to tease him again. “Yeah, well,” he said, voice like gravel. “We’re all misfits together.”

“Mmhmm,” Stiles sighed in agreement. He inhaled deeply, his hand fell heavily back to the cot and features tensed as he confessed, “…‘m so tired…”

“Rest as long as you need. I’ve got you,” Derek assured, running his thumb along the back of Stiles’ hand where it was clasped in his own. With his free hand, he reached out and pulled back the largest of the remaining bandages on Stiles’ chest, wanting to gauge the condition of his wounds. He let out a relieved sigh as he noted Stiles’ healing was already rapidly accelerating in response to their bond. What would have taken a month to finish healing at its previous rate would now take a day. He taped the bandage back into place carefully.

“You’ll stay?” Stiles asked weakly.

“Always,” Derek swore, jaw flexing as he managed, “I would’ve been with you the whole time if I’d known.”

“I know…” Stiles huffed with a frown. “…thought… better… stay away…”

Derek bit back a tearful smile as he joked, “And what did you learn?”

“Shuddup…” Stiles chuckled. “…get it… was wrong…”

“Yes. You were wrong and…?” Derek prompted, immeasurably relieved to be doing this again.

“Shoulda… come to you…” Stiles grudgingly admitted.

“Glad we’ve got that cleared up,” Derek said softly.

“…‘m sorry…” Stiles sighed, his scent betraying rising sorrow and guilt. “…mean it… ‘m not good, man… this… is all… a lot… you… shouldn’t… have to… ‘m not your…”

“Don’t you dare,” Derek warned fiercely, gripping Stiles’ hand just knowing he was going to say something ridiculous. Like how he wasn’t Derek’s problem, or responsibility. “You’re _pack_. You’re _mine_. And we are going to get through this together.”

His wolf was itching for more contact, to provide comfort and protection to his Beta, to mark him so there was never any doubt as to who he belonged. The idea of that other Alpha taking Stiles… _touching_ him… _hurting_ him… Derek gritted his teeth, trying to stay calm and shelve those thoughts for later. He had been doggedly avoiding them all week.

Before Derek could think better of it, he gave in to instinct and pressed his forehead against Stiles’, closing his eyes before rubbing his stubbled cheek all along the teen’s face and down the side of his neck. His chest rumbled as Stiles tilted his head to the side, instinctively offering up his throat to his Alpha.

“Mmm…” Stiles sighed. Breathing in deeply, he groaned and declared with surprising clarity, “Oh, _Jesus_ , you smell so fucking _good_.”

Derek smiled to himself, trying to ignore the way the comment sent a thrill through him. He rumbled louder, his wolf preening at the praise and cheering on the continued scent marking.

“Seriously… what is that?” Stiles panted, leaning toward Derek, and breathing him in. “Is it… like an Alpha thing… or just… a Derek thing? Because _unffff_ …”

Stiles let out a low, wanton moan as he let his instincts take over and eagerly rubbed his face against that of his Alpha. Derek shuddered and gripped the back of Stiles’ neck. He tried his best to shake off his intense reaction to the intimate contact as well as the exquisite sounds Stiles was making. The way his scent spiked with intense arousal. Derek knew his own scent was doing the same. 

“ _God_... you’re like wolf-nip,” Stiles panted wetly against his ear with those perfect, pink lips and it _did things_ to Derek. Made him want so badly he could taste it.

Against his better judgment, Derek replied in a low, rough voice against Stiles’ jugular, “I could say the same to you.” He ran his tongue up the side of Stiles’ throat and his eyes rolled closed in pleasure at the little whimper Stiles gave in response. He wanted to hear more. Wanted to learn every sound he could wring out of him.

Derek allowed himself another moment to relish the mutual scenting. After all, he had denied himself of this for long enough already. As much as he had fought to ignore Stiles’ scent from the day they met, it had always been equal parts alluring and calming. Now that he was a wolf, it was absolutely intoxicating. _Right_ in ways he could scarcely quantify.

Derek would no longer need to keep his distance, he realized. No longer need to ignore Stiles’ scent and how it heated in his presence. No longer need to prepare himself for the day Stiles would leave to pursue a normal, human life. Stiles was his now. _HIS._ There was no going back. Only forward.

With a great deal of effort, Derek managed to reluctantly pull away.

“So… is that normal?” Stiles asked curiously, finally forcing his unfocused, honey-colored eyes to open.

Derek’s breath caught in his throat as their eyes met for the first time in two weeks.

Stiles licked his lips. Derek tracked the movement hungrily.

“The scenting…” Stiles went on, “Does it always feel like that? Or was that just… us?”

Derek bit his lip, narrowing his gaze on Stiles’ mouth as he decided how to reply. Probably not the best thing to focus on, though, as it made it impossible to think clearly.

Stiles gave him a slightly dopey smile. “I should tell you in advance, if you say it’s not just us, I fully intend to blame that question on the drugs,” he teased, giving Derek an easy out.

Derek huffed a laugh and shook his head. He looked down at his boots before admitting, “It… doesn’t always feel like that.” He waited a few seconds before meeting Stiles’ gaze again.

“ _Hmm_ …” Stiles said, shifting his head on his pillow and looking significantly stoned. “Just us then,” he said, sounding pleased. He studied Derek for a moment before asking, “We gonna investigate that further? You know, if I’m ever not…” he motioned the makeshift hospital bed he was stuck in as he finished, “…like this?”

“Do you want to?” Derek asked plainly, tilting his head to the side.

Stiles laughed at that, tipping his head back and exposing the long line of his throat, then wincing and pressing a hand to his bandages to brace his healing wounds. He chuckled lightly at his own bad decision to laugh so hard.

“Holy shit, _yes_ ,” he finally answered. “Understatement of the century, big guy.”

Derek grinned. “Then we’ll definitely be investigating it further… once you’re on your feet again. Think of it as motivation to hang in there until we get your ADHD under control again.”

Stiles grinned back at him. “I can work with that. You’re a damned good motivator.” He sighed, blinking up at Derek blearily. “I’m gonna pass out again any second now, I can feel it. But, hey… thanks for giving me something to dream about,” he winked up at the Alpha and earned a laugh in reply. After a moment, he whispered, “I’m glad I’m not dead.”

Derek marveled at him before leaning down and kissing him gently. The younger wolf sighed contentedly and leaned up into the contact, though neither of them tried to push for more.

“I’m glad you’re not dead, too,” Derek whispered back against his lips, smiling as he watched Stiles nod off again.

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**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

So, what did you think? Love it? Hate it? Did it make you cry? 

(It totally choked me up while writing it. Especially Stiles struggling in the beginning, guh.)

I was originally intending to leave this as-is, but I might be persuaded to continue if there's enough interest. ;) 


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